


After School Special

by amclove



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bi Dean, DeanCas - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Football, High School AU, M/M, Oneshot, Reunion, Tumblr Prompt, pan cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-23 22:55:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16628033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amclove/pseuds/amclove
Summary: Based on a prompt I was sent on tumblr :)





	After School Special

    Castiel had never been a fan of football. It wasn’t that it was necessarily so complicated that he couldn’t understand it, but that it was so intensely boring that he couldn’t stand even a conversation about the sport. He had no time for quarterbacks or linebackers or any kind of back that was involved with football, and that had always been perfectly fine. It made no impact on his life, as no one else in his family particularly loved football enough to force him into the same sentiment, and he had very few friends to begin with let alone ones that held an obsession with what was arguably the dullest sport ever created.

    Castiel’s dislike for football didn’t come up as a major issue until he was nearly 16, a sophomore in high school, and taking part in a class discussion. English wasn’t his favorite, but it wasn’t his least either. It fell in the middle with a tip toward the negative only because he wasn’t keen on talking in front of groups and this course was 90 percent seminars. Cas had thus far into the year made do. Today, though, they were getting into the topic of athletics in schools and how being on a team sport affected the athletes themselves.

    Naturally, Cas had next to nothing to say on the subject.

    “But sports are a distraction,” Kevin stated. Cas couldn’t tear his eyes off the braces that shined from within Kevin’s mouth as he spoke. “Nothing useful is gained on a grass field like is gained in a classroom.” Had they been recently cleaned? Were all braces that shiny? “All sports teach is the normalization of violence and toxic masculinity.” The part of Cas that had actually sort of comprehended Kevin’s words made him nod, but he stopped when another boy opened his mouth to reply to Kevin’s comment.

    “That’s true, partly,” Dean said, “but as a guy on the football team, I can tell you that all it’s done for me is teach me how to better manage my time with school-work, and cooperate with people that I maybe don’t get along with super well. It’s not just toxicity and throwing fists.”

    “I agree,” Cas all but blurted. Green eyes fell on him and Cas swallowed as the rest of the class’ followed, waiting for him to go on. “Having to balance homework and other projects on top of early-morning or late-night practices and games is teaching athletes, if they’re willing to learn, how to properly prioritize their time,” he explained. “I would venture to say that some of them even do better academically, or socially, than students that don’t play a sport because the athletes have built up skills the others don’t have.”

    “Well said,” Mr. Kogler told the boys, “Dean and Cas, both of you.”

    Dean looked back at Cas across the room and gave him a little grin, which Cas reflexively returned. The last person Cas would ever have expected to smile at him, resident nerd, was Dean Winchester, jock and unofficial model.

    Dean stopped him after class and said, “Hey, thanks for the help in there. I’m not always great at, you know, getting my words to match what’s goin’ on in my head.”

    “Wasn’t a problem,” Cas assured him, more surprised than ever. “I can’t say I love debates but I appreciate hearing different sides. Yours was interesting.”

    “Well, I’ve been playing football my whole life, so I had to stick up for it.” Cas must have made a face, because Dean laughed. “What?” he questioned.

    “Excuse me?”

    “You look, like, grossed out. What, don’t tell me you don’t like football.” At Cas’ silence, Dean’s jaw dropped. “For real?”

    “I’m afraid so,” Cas said, making for his next class. Dean stuck to his side and Cas was unclear as to why. Why was Dean entertaining this? Didn’t he have another class to get to as well, one that he would be late to if he kept trailing after Castiel?

    “You must not be watching the right games.”

    “I can’t see how that’s accurate, seeing as how I’ve never been to one.”

    “Oh, now, that’s ridiculous,” Dean announced, to which Cas raised his eyebrows. “You have to experience it, man! The American past-time!”

    “I thought that was baseball.”

    Dean rolled his eyes and went on pointedly, “How else do you know you hate it so much?”

    “General knowledge.”

    “‘General knowledge,’ my ass,” Dean scoffed, good-natured. “Look, there’s a game tonight. I’m playing. Come and watch. If you absolutely hate it, I’ll give you ten bucks.”

    Cas looked directly at Dean for the first time where they stood only a couple feet apart. He had freckles scattered like stars across his nose and cheekbones, too pretty to be real. Would going to one football game kill Cas? It might, but at least he’d die watching Dean Winchester running around in tights.

    “As a fan of making money,” Cas said, “I’ll be there.” Not astonishingly, Dean was strong as hell, and so Cas struggled to remain upright when Dean grinned and gave a hearty clap to Cas’ shoulder.

    “Sweet,” he said. “See you tonight. Be prepared to lose.”

    Cas shook his head as he watched Dean disappear into the crowd of people hurrying to get to their respective classes. He knew he wouldn’t enjoy the game, that was a given. But what Dean was going to get out of this either way… That was a mystery.

* * *

 

    Cas was already wishing that he had ignored Dean’s bet. He never once in his life had so much as accepted a dare, so why now had he taken Dean’s bait of ten dollars to sit his ass on steel bleachers and freeze to death? Somehow, it had been lost on Cas that football was to be played on the designated field—which was outside, in the middle of autumn, where it was 40 degrees at best by six in the night and therefore hell to Cas’ face, fingers, and ears. He’d brought a blanket, its heavy warmth wrapped over his body his only saving grace forty minutes into this God-forsaken mistake of a bet.

    His cheeks were red like the apples his grandmother peeled for apple pie. Is this frostbite? Cas shivered, hands wrung together in his lap beneath the blanket. He focused on the jersey that read WINCHESTER in bold white lettering as its owner sprinted over the grass. Cas had to admit that as cold as he was, he didn’t totally hate watching Dean play.

    When the game was over, he mulled over what he was supposed to do now. Had Dean expected Cas to wait for him for the verdict? Or maybe he’d forgotten the bet altogether and Cas coming had been an idiotic, completely asinine—

    “Cas!” Dean called. He’d caught Cas trying to sneak past the bench closest to the gate where the team had been assembled. Cas closed his eyes tight, but paused. Dean said a quick goodbye to his buddies and swooped his bag of gear onto his shoulder before bounding over to where Cas was standing. Cas had to admit that his cold cheeks warmed just a little at the attention.

    “What’d you think?” Dean asked, eyes bright. He had stripped off his jersey and padding, so all he wore was his pants and a white undershirt. His skin was glistening, hair spiked with perspiration, and his mouth was open as he panted lightly. Enjoying all of that a bit too much, Cas had to look away and kicked his booted toe against the ground.

    “Well, I didn’t hate it,” he said before he could stop himself. Of course, he hadn’t clarified what about the experience he hadn’t hated—all of which had been Dean Dean Dean—and never would, but this meant that Dean now had the unfounded satisfaction of being right.

    “I hate to say I told you so, but I really did,” he said with a grin as he and Cas made for the parking lot. Cas had yet to page his father for a ride home and was reminded yet again of how he couldn’t wait to have his license.

    “So, what?” Cas asked, expecting the worst. “I have to do your Calc homework for a week or what?”

    “Huh?”

    “I lost the bet,” Cas said like it were obvious. “You never said what you would get if you won, so I assumed…”

    “You think I’d make someone do my homework for me?” Dean questioned, and looked almost offended.

    “I don’t know.”

    “No,” Dean said. “I didn’t want anything for winning.”

    “Oh.” Cas didn’t know what to say. “Okay.”

    It was Dean’s turn to kick at the pavement with his shoe. “Well, I guess I’ll see you Monday.”

    “Yeah.”

    A hint of Dean’s teasing smile returned when he added, “I told you football’s awesome.”

    “You did,” Cas agreed.

    They were quiet for a second and then Dean said, “Well. ’Night, Cas.”

     Cas hated how much he liked the sound of the nickname coming from this football player’s mouth. “Goodnight, Dean.”

* * *

 

     Older now by a couple years, Cas could still say with certainty that football was boring. The one thing absolutely not boring about it was that his best friend was the captain of the varsity team, and asked that Cas be there to cheer him on every game. Cas couldn’t turn down Dean Winchester, and probably never would, so here was another Wednesday night that found Cas on the bleachers clapping whenever Dean so much as touched the ball.

    Unfortunately, this October was rainier than what anyone was used to or had been prepared for. By the time the game had ended, it was coming down steadily and Cas was drenched. Dean was worse off, as he had to peel off his jersey and pads which were now soaked through with water and mud on top of perspiration, and Cas could only imagine how the tights must be feeling. Actually, with the way they clung to his friend’s thighs even worse than when dry, he’d rather not.

    “Hungry?” Dean asked once he’d made it to where Cas stood by the gate, their usual meeting spot.

    “You’re always starving,” Cas remarked instead of answering.

    “For a burger?” Dean snorted, gripping the strap of his bag. “Hell, yeah. I’m thinking two burgers, basket of fries, and a shake.”

    “I’m thinking diabetes.”

    Dean barked a laugh and grinned at Cas. “Wise-ass. As if you don’t love burgers just as much as the next guy.” Cas did, in fact, since cheeseburgers were his top favorite food next to PB and J, so he couldn’t deny Dean’s retort. Dean dumped his gear onto the tarp in the trunk of the Impala, a 16th birthday gift to die for, and slid into the driver’s side as Cas joined him in the passenger’s.

    They made mindless chatter on the drive to the diner, Cas’ homemade Donovan mixtape crooning softly from Baby’s speakers, and everything felt peaceful. Cas’ favorite past-time was probably just driving with Dean in this car down one of Kansas’ long roads and listening to him sing along to the Golden Oldies that made up Dean’s entire musical taste.

    Once they were seated at a window booth and chomping on their respective orders, Dean looked at Cas and said, “So, I got somethin’ to say.”

    “Okay.”

    “Okay.” Dean paused. “I’ve been thinking, like, about how I’ve been feeling, and it’s been for a while now that I feel this way. I wanted to tell you, so that’s what I’m doing.” Dean took a breath, then said, “So, I’m bi.” Cas blinked. “Bisexual.”

    “I know what it means.” But he could understand Dean’s concern. They lived in a small town, and more than half the people there couldn’t name a specific sexuality other than ‘straight’ or ‘fag’ if their life depended on it. About a decade after the major portion of the AIDs crisis, words like what Dean was suggesting were avoided like the disease itself in places like Lawrence.

    “Oh,” Dean said, sitting back against the booth. “Okay.”

    “Okay,” Cas repeated. He returned to his meal, his mind racing. He knew he needed to show support, or else Dean would most likely retreat back into himself and maybe even take it all back, but he had no idea what to say. _It’s okay because I’m actually pansexual and I understand exactly what you’ve been going through_ would be good. But he was terrified, so fucking terrified to lay that on the table right now, that Cas just said, “It doesn’t matter to me how you identify, Dean. You’re my best friend.”

    “Thanks, Cas,” Dean said, and it sounded as though that maybe Cas had been right to keep it simple for now. “Really.”

    “And it isn’t like you’re subtle,” Cas tacked on. “You’re a huge flirt with everyone you meet, regardless of gender.”

    Dean laughed like Cas had taken him by surprise. Shaking his head, he said, “Jesus, Cas. Tell us how you really feel, huh?”

     _Oh, you wouldn’t like that_ , Cas wanted to say, _and I could never_.

    So he shrugged and kept eating while Dean eyed him over his burger.

* * *

 

    Nothing changed, exactly as Cas had expected. Well, now there was the inkling of jealousy in mind whenever Dean glanced at another boy. Before, he’d thought Dean was just so charismatic, such a charmer, that he could connect with literally anybody. Now Cas knew that Dean had all that time had an actual attraction to men in general, and it was mortifying for him to admit, but he hated Dean looking at them more than he ever had Dean’s occasional ogling of women. It hit too close to home, that Dean would have sex with another guy, with all the same parts and maybe even some of the same desires that Cas had been fighting against all this time—

    Cas tried not to let it get to him. Dean’s sexuality had nothing to do with him, end of story. They were about to graduate, for Christ’s sake. It was time to grow up.

    Every other Friday they had free meant movie night with Sammy, alternating between who got to choose what they watched. It was Sam’s turn, which meant _Star Wars: Return of the Jedi_ (as they’d watched the first two the past couple ‘Sam nights’). Dean was more of a _Star Trek_ fan, and Cas didn’t care either way, but he somehow always ended up in the middle of their arguments over which was better.

    He tuned them out, obviously. He watched the film in silence and allowed the brothers to battle it out until either Sam or Dean grew bored of the debate, which one inevitably would.

    “I don’t get him,” Dean said, shaking his head. “Like, it would pretty much be fine if he would admit that Han and Luke are gunning for each other, but he’s so blind. At least in _Star Trek_ I can argue Spock and Kirk are into each other without Sam being able to say shit.”

    “Dean, is everyone with you gay?” Cas asked, and Dean snorted.

    “Duh,” and when Cas snorted in return went on, “Come on, you gotta admit it makes way more sense than just assuming all the people in space would be straight. They fly fucking spaceships, but a dude giving head to another is the craziest idea in the world?” And really, when Dean put it like that, Cas couldn’t argue.

    “I think you’d be fine if straight people didn’t exist,” Cas said, joking.

    “Nah. I need my parents. And Sam. Well, we don’t know about him for sure yet.” Dean looked over at Cas, grinning just a bit. There was something in it that made Cas’ stomach tighten. “And you. I wouldn’t want you to up and disappear just cuz I didn’t want the heteros around.”

    Cas couldn’t reply. Whenever Dean made these jokes, Cas felt an internal fist slam into his gut. Was he ever going to tell Dean that he wasn’t actually one of those heteros? He was basically lying to his closest friend and it was killing him, but it was like there was a fucking wall between him and the truth that made it so he couldn’t force it up out of his throat and into open air.

    He didn’t speak for fear that he’d be honest.

    Dean ruffled his hair with his fingers, the silver band he’d worn since forever there on the ring. His gaze was out on the street from where they sat on his porch. How many times had they done this, just remained side by side in silence under the moon? Cas wanted to press his shoulder to Dean’s in the hopes that the small touch would say all the things he couldn’t with words, but he held back. That’s all he ever seemed to do.

    Dean, though, he’d always been brave. He could present in front of a class of twenty or an assembly hall of fifty like it was nothing, flirt shamelessly with either girls or guys like he had nothing to lose, make a joke at his own expense and laugh because he wasn’t so cocky that he couldn’t see his flaws. Dean was something else, and now his knee bumped Cas’, once, twice. He looked at Cas, grinning, like he was trying to provoke him. Another nudge, but he didn’t move this time. Their knees stayed together, and Cas was at a loss for several seconds before Dean spoke.

    “You know,” he said, “I, uh…” He seemed to think, then rubbed his face, muttering almost to himself, “I wish I was fuckin’ brave.” Ironic, really. Dramatically ironic, like Dean was on TV and the audience could see the parts of him that even he couldn’t; where they, being Cas, saw the little sacrifices Dean made for his brother since they day he’d been born, the ability to seduce strangers whether intentionally or not with just a glance, helping his father through withdrawal when alcohol had been taken out of his diet. Brave. Always.

    “You are,” Cas said, and left it at that.

    “If I were, I’d be able to just say what I want to say to you,” Dean disagreed. Cas waited. He was a little worried that Dean was about to say their friendship has been fake all this time and actually one giant, hilariously unfunny prank. It wasn’t logical in the least but still, the not-knowing of it all made Cas’ spine tense.

    “You know you’re my best friend,” Dean said.

    “Yes.”

    “I never wanted… But when I actually talked to you, I _knew_ , you know? And I just needed to know you and talk to you all the time, like it was breathing.” Cas did his best to keep up with Dean’s rambling. “For however long it’s been, I can’t get us out of my head.”

    “Us…?”

    “Us,” Dean said again, his green eyes big on Cas. “You and me, being something other than friends.” Cas felt his body stiffen. “And I know that’s wrong, cuz we’re friends, and I get that. But every time I see you I feel somethin’ in me shift, you know? Like—fuck, like, now some of the best Led Zeppelin songs make sense when it’s you I’m thinking of, where they didn’t so much before.” Dean again ruffled his shorn hair, while Cas was speechless, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

    His lips formed words that he wasn’t aware the meaning of. “Dean, we can’t.”

    Dean focused on Cas again, but this time he looked more confused than anxious. “What’s that mean?”

    Cas got to his feet, stumbling off the porch steps to grab his bike. “I’m sorry. It isn’t… We can’t,” he said again. “I can’t, Dean.” Cas was already making for the sidewalk when Dean began to follow after him.

    “So it’s all in my head?” Dean asked, an edge to his voice now. “You watching me change when you sleep here? That look on your face when I wear my uniform?” Cas closed his eyes and shook his head, but kept walking. Why had he hoped that Dean hadn’t noticed any of that? What an idiot he’d been, always with his heart on his sleeve but never the courage to speak on it.

    “Let it go, Dean.”

    “‘Let it go’?” Dean echoed, annoyance enough to stop him in his tracks. “I thought you—”

    Cas spun on his heel to glare at Dean, praying that it burned enough to seem real. “Well, I don’t,” he snapped, as mean as he could sound without his voice breaking. “You thought wrong. Leave it alone. Leave me alone.”

    Dean stood there and watched Cas mount his bike and take off down the street. He didn’t try to follow this time.

* * *

 

    No part of Dean wanted to go to his high school’s reunion. Whatever idiot had thought up these sorry excuses for a good time clearly hadn’t ever been laid.

    Sam chagrined his bad attitude over the phone, since this was after all going to mark ten years since Dean’s graduation and wasn’t that so cool? No, not fucking cool, more like tragic. He was 28 and more aware than ever that his time clock was ticking. Why go and see all the people he’d only known as youthful and vibrant just to be reminded that they were all old like he was, probably each married with three and a half kids and a house in the suburbs? And Sam was a hypocrite, since he was at Stanford and far removed from anything that resembled life in Lawrence.

    Regardless, Dean adjusted his tie in the mirror. He was still hot as hell, maybe a little less pretty than he’d been when he was a teenager—instead of a round, hairless chin he actually had a sort-of jawline and a generous spattering of stubble. He nodded once at himself. This would be fine. Certainly not painless, but fine. It was one night, after all. Nothing could really go horribly wrong in just one night. Dean shook his head. Not as wrong as…

    It didn’t matter. He’d be in and out. Easy.

    But, boy, these people sure liked to talk. Before Dean could blink once, over half an hour had passed him by in this banquet hall full of former peers. He chatted with a Donna, a Lindsay, two Aarons, a Tiffany he had no memory of, an Adam he had no memory of, and throughout all this Dean felt his energy withering from the source. He poured himself a coffee and hoped that it would act as an invisibility shield for at least a few minutes. He needed a break. When he spotted another person headed his way despite the coffee covering his face, he ducked quickly into the hall and made a beeline for the door that would take him outside.

    The night air wasn’t exactly refreshing in June, but he could breathe better than he’d managed in that stuffy room. Had he really known all those strangers? Then again, he had really only had one close friend and the rest had been mostly acquaintances and casual buddies. He wouldn’t see them after tonight for another ten years and then maybe by then no one would even care to show up. The thought lifted Dean’s spirits enough that he dropped the coffee cup into the garbage can that stood off to the side of the pathway.

    He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his dress pants and began to pace aimlessly. Why he’d gotten so dolled up for this thing, he didn’t know. A tie and slacks? Way overkill for a bunch of nonsense.

    But he guessed that he knew why he’d put in the effort, and he didn’t like to think about it.

    “Hello, Dean.”

    And there was the thing he didn’t like to think about. Of course.

* * *

 

    Cas had only made it a few steps into the garage when he fell against the wall nearest where he’d entered, the knot in his throat cutting off the air to his lungs. He couldn’t breathe. His jock best friend had just admitted to having feelings for him, feelings that Cas returned, but he was too much of a loser to own up to.

    How many times had he wished for Dean to see him as more than a friend? How many times had he tamped that daydream down and stomped it into the dirt? Why now, knowing that he could have everything and more, was he unable to grab Dean’s stupid face and kiss him until they couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t fucking move?

    Cas wrapped his arms around his torso and tried to inhale and exhale on even intervals. He was going to be sick. He needed to get a grip. He would talk to Dean tomorrow, when he was more in control of himself. He would apologize and explain everything, all the feelings and confusion that had pushed Cas to blurt out a total lie instead of the truth.

    Tomorrow turned out to be never, in this case.

    Dean had taken Cas seriously when he’d ordered Dean to leave him alone. He didn’t pick Cas up for school on Monday as he normally did, and the rest of the week was the same. He wouldn’t so much as send Cas a backward glance in the hallway and ignored Cas’ yelling out to him. Cas couldn’t blame him for being angry, but this was a bit much even for Dean. If he would only listen, this would all be over. But Dean wouldn’t, and Cas had no idea how to fix his mistake. He couldn’t believe—he _refused_ to believe that it was over.

    Any time in the past that the idea had crossed his mind of one day not having Dean in his life, Cas would push it away because it was too hard to even consider. But now that it had happened, Cas missed Dean more than he’d ever thought possible. He felt terrible that he hadn’t had the nerve to say to Dean what he’d wanted to all along and now his chance was gone.

    Cas was furious that Dean’s decision had done this to them. Why had he told Cas anything in the first place? It would’ve all been fine if he’d just kept his feelings to himself, same as Cas had done for so long. Then maybe when they were both a little more mature, it could have worked out. Instead he’d ruined their friendship and now blamed Cas for doing the damage. It was bullshit. He even prayed for the first time in years to God that this was something that could blow over and be dealt with as anything else.

    When he saw that that wasn’t going to happen, Cas almost didn’t want to leave the house. He was embarrassed on top of his hurt, ashamed that he still wanted Dean so badly and had so royally bungled it all up.

    He tried to focus on other things; he desperately needed the distraction. He worked out at the gym—not the school’s because that’s where Dean went—to get out his frustration and lack of company. His friends were Dean’s friends, so sides were chosen, usually against Cas’ favor. He had nobody, which wouldn’t have mattered if he had just the one person he actually needed. He pushed on.

    Before he knew it, graduation had arrived, and he and his best friend had yet to reconcile. They left high school and that was that. No way to contact Dean aside from showing up at his front door, and he refused to see Cas when he’d tried. One time had been sufficient for him to get the message: Dean was done. And that was that. Cas was tired, and he was still hurting, but he knew that if there was really no hope for him and Dean, it was better to move on than to keep himself stuck in what had to be the past. Cas let it go. He had to, for his own sanity.

    And then he received the invitation to his high school’s tenth reunion.

* * *

 

    “Hello, Dean.”

    Dean squeezed his eyes shut and prayed to whoever that this wasn’t happening. But when he opened them and looked the voice’s way, it was exactly as he’d feared.

    “Cas,” he said, lucky that the name was so short. It hid the fact that his throat was suddenly very dry and, wow, he definitely shouldn’t have thrown out that fucking coffee.

    “I wasn’t sure you’d come to this,” Cas said, and Dean shrugged noncommittally. “How have you been? It’s been, what, ten years?” Considering they were literally standing outside the reunion to celebrate exactly that, Dean wanted to snap that Cas was either still very literal and oblivious or just an idiot. Both worked.

    “Wild,” he managed to remark. “I was just leaving.”

    “I’m just arriving.”

    Again, annoyingly literal or really fucking stupid.

    “I can see that,” Dean said, this time allowing his exasperation to seep through. He had really been planning to leave, but now he wasn’t so sure he wanted to. If he went home, Sam would expect a full report and keep Dean on the phone for at least an hour trying to dissect Dean’s night. Maybe he should go back inside the room—but he really didn’t want to. God, he’d nearly suffocated in there.

    “What have you been up to?” he found himself asking Cas. He didn’t really care, but it was conversation while he debated his plan for the wasted night.

    “I’m a social worker,” Cas answered.

    Dean was actually taken aback at that. When he had known Cas, he hadn’t ever shown any interest in the court system. He’d been obsessed with STEM and wanted to be a fucking mathematician. A lawyer was a far cry from that.

    “I had a part-time job working with kids while I was at school and realized how much I enjoy them,” Cas explained, like he’d read Dean’s mind. “The system is so dangerous for them, I wanted to do what I can to prevent their abuse.”

    “That’s… real nice, Cas,” Dean admitted.

    “Thank you. It’s difficult sometimes, seeing what they go through and the fact that I can’t help them more than I do, but I try to focus on the good over the bad.” Cas nodded, thoughtful, then said, “What about you? What are you up to?”

    “I’m a mechanic. Part-owner to my dad’s garage.”

    “Dean, that’s fantastic,” Cas said sincerely. “You wanted to work there forever.”

    “Dad left it to me and his best friend in his will, so.”

    Cas’ eyebrows furrowed. “John passed?” Dean thinned his lips into a line and lifted his shoulders a little. “Dean, I’m truly sorry.”

    “His liver was shot,” Dean said, like that were an answer, which it sort of was.

    “Still.” They stood unmoving on the pathway. “I can’t believe it’s been a decade,” Cas said after a moment’s silence.

    “I can’t either.”

    “You look very much the same.”

    Dean blew out a laugh. “I guess.” He looked Cas over. Same mussed hair, but now there was a gruff shadow over his cheeks that offset the ice-blue of his eyes. He looked perfect, which sucked. “You’re not so bad.”

     “Thank you,” Cas said, laughing softly. He dropped his gaze to the pavement and then for a half-second looked at Dean through his lashes, pretty enough for Dean to have to shift on his feet. Cas sighed. “Well, I’m going to stay for a bit. If you want to head out, as you mentioned, I guess I’ll say goodbye and let you go.”

    The phrasing pinched uncomfortably at Dean’s skin. He remembered high school, he remembered all of what had gone down with them to destroy their friendship. Cas being incurably straight, Dean hating himself for having feelings he hadn’t made the conscious choice to have for his best friend. It had all been such a rotten mess.

    “Yeah,” he said. “I’m going to go. I’ll see you, Cas.” Cas nodded and watched Dean turn to leave. He said Dean’s name before he could get more than a couple steps away and Dean paused.

    “Would you like to…” Cas gestured to the bench behind them. “Would you mind sitting for a moment?”

    Dean hesitated, but settled onto the bench nonetheless. His shoulders were tight with the awareness that he should be walking away. Cas sat beside him a respectful distance and Dean waited for him to say whatever it was that he was going to say.

    “I know it’s been a while, and things can’t be the way they were when we were 17.” Cas lifted a hand to his neck. “It’s probably better that things aren’t as they were back then.” He seemed to search for the words. “It’s been ten years, after all, and I thought that letting this all fade into the past was for the best.” Dean agreed, so he stayed quiet. “However, I… Seeing you again has weakened my resolve on the matter, I’m sorry to say.”

    “Cas, man, what…?”

    “Dean, I lied to you,” Cas said. “That night, senior year. When you told me how… I said that I…” Cas shook his head and tried to think. “I was a coward and so stunned to hear you say the words I’d quite literally, pathetically, dreamed you would say that I was too terrified to admit—” He took a breath.

    “You…” Dean stared at him. “You don’t mean to tell me—”

    “Dean. I loved you back. More than was probably healthy for a 17-year-old, if I’m being honest.” The space between Cas’ eyebrows creased as he remembered that night. “I was an asshole because I was scared, and before I’d even gotten home I promised myself that I would talk to you the next day and sort it out, but then the next day came and you wouldn’t even look at me.” Cas looked at his lap. “I couldn’t blame you, after what I’d done.”

    “You did seem pretty desperate,” Dean said, his words joking but his face blank.

    “Now you know why. I wasn’t just chasing my best friend, Dean; I was chasing the boy I loved more than anyone in the world, who now wanted nothing to do with me because he thought…” Cas lifted his shoulders. “But I didn’t want to be just friends. Quite the opposite.”

    “And then we graduated.”

    “And then we graduated. It was easier to move on, let you forget the hurt I’d caused you. I’m only telling you this now because it’s been a sore in the back of my mind all this time and seeing you tonight brought it to the surface again.”

    “You fucking hurt me, Cas.”

    “I know, Dean.”

    “You didn’t see the look on your face, like I was some kind of pervert.” Dean took a beat. “It was Kansas in the Nineties, man. My dad was a douche; telling you all the shit I did could’ve gotten me beaten to a bloody pulp, or worse.”

    “I didn’t—”

    “I know that now, but I didn’t know it then. And I know I was a stubborn asshole for not letting you near me after that night to tell me so but... I had to cut you out.” Dean shook his head. “At the time, I… I thought that was the only option.”

    “I forgave you almost immediately,” Cas said softly. “There was really nothing you could’ve done that I wouldn’t have forgiven, Dean. I have a feeling it would be the same now.”

    Dean looked at Cas then, saw the moonlight reflected in his eyes. If he tried, he could almost see Cas as he’d been years ago, next to him on that porch step and gaze wide with trust—before it had all gone to shit.

    “You really loved me, huh?” Dean asked.

    “Yes.”

    “Why? My sparkling personality?”

    “I know, it surprised me too.”

    Dean surprised them both by laughing. He shook his head as he quieted. “I nursed a crush on you for way too long, even after… A real softie, I was.”

    “No longer?”

    Dean looked over at him, elbows bent onto his knees. “Haven’t had reason to be.” Cas’ eyes swept over his face and Dean cleared his throat. “Well, it feels sorta weird to have that all… out there, huh?”

    “Good, though, I think,” Cas said. “Finally.” Dean nodded a little. “I would like to see you again.”

    “Cas…”

    “One afternoon coffee,” Cas said quickly. “And we go from there.”

    Dean had a flash of Cas on a bicycle, pedaling off furiously down his old street and into the night. Ten years. He wasn’t a kid anymore, and this wasn’t the Nineties.

    “Okay,” Dean heard himself say. “Let’s get a coffee.”

    They both knew, despite themselves, that they were still a little in love with the boy they had known each other to be way back when. And they both knew, despite everything, that they could easily fall in love with the man they had yet to know now. They decided to be brave.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is an episode from season 4, a favorite of mine, and I thought it was fitting because it was a school reunion :D I hope you liked it, and I hope the anon who suggested it is at least a little pleased with this result. Thank you! I also included the five official stages of grief for Cas lol So feel free to comment and let me know if you find them. (Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or anything connected to it except my own writing.)


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